Kirkwall - Imperial Destiny
by kingofthetrident
Summary: The Fifth Blight is over. The Elves have a new Homeland. Orzammar has a King who will remake the Ancient Empire Anew. A new power has risen in the South to Challenge the Hegemony of Orlais. Amidst these new powers a new one is Arising in Kirkwall, at the hands of a lowly Refugee. Kirkwalls Destiny begins, with the meeting between a Hawk and a Dwarf. The World will shake Before Them
1. Chapter 1

As she awoke, her nose was bombarded with the regular scents of Kirkwall. The Smell of smog from endless smithies and furnaces. The smell of salt and fish from the Harbor just a small walk away. And of course the lovely Scent of piss where drunks urinated in alleys and the blood of some drunkard who had been unfortunate enough to stumble into the iron spikes lining the roads of the City. There were a lot of those.

This was Kirkwall, in all it's splendor.

As she raised herself in her bed, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She took in the rest of the room. Her Brother Carver was completely out, sleeping like a babe. Or rather like an old man who liked to make as much sound as possible while asleep. Bethany was somewhat similar, though unlike carver, she didn't snore like an annoying storm.

Mother was also fast asleep, her calm weak breathing being drowned out by carver. She did a lot of that lately, sleep and stay in her bed. Hawke could have said she was a huge drain on their limited resources, but the truth was mother barely ate half of what anyone else in the family ate these days.

She'd seen that happen a lot of times in her days in the Ferelden Army, soldiers stopped eating as much as they should. Usually after something horrible happened, like a werewolf aftermath, or an abomination rising and slaughtering some farmhold.

Mother simply hadn't been able to bounce back from everything they lost in Lothering. The Farm, the community they had become part of, all their belongings that could not be carried by hand.

Father.

Hawke closed her eyes sharply, as the unbidden memory came back to the surface. The Greatest man she had ever known, dying from a meaningless brawl with Darkspawn they shouldn't even have been around for. They Should have left Lothering much sooner.

But Father being who he was, he had made them stay and help their friends and refugees flee for as long as possible, until she had finally had had enough and told him they were leaving with or without him.

It had been an ultimatum from a young woman to get her Father to get his ass moving. It had turned out to be the start of her as the Family overhead and Matriarch.

God, matriarch. It still felt so… Bizarre to think of herself as that way, halfway through her twenties was not when she thought she would be settled with a title Generally reserved for grandmothers.

But she had been. Mother had not stepped up, and she had effectively become family leader in both practice as well as name. It still felt so strangely unreal in her own opinion.

Finally, she decided it was time to get going. She got up and quieter than a cat she exited the room. Entering the main room, she saw gamlen's Room off to the Right and up the ladder, but ignored it. Gamlen was a sour, bitter old man, but she didn't really have anything against him. So long as she wasn't stupid enough to trust him with money, she got along well enough with the owner of the house they lived in.

She also let her old Mabari Rest up along the main entrance to the house.

Instead she went from the main room over to the storage room. Well, it was filled with pretty much anything of value they owned which wasn't coin. Swords, daggers, crossbows and bows in various states of disrepair. Armor which were easy to carry, especially lamellar and laminar plates. They had hundreds of those. Incredibly easy to carry in a bag once you cut the cloth binding them together away. If she had done her estimates correctly, there was about 7 sovereigns worth of equipment in this room.

Gamlen wouldn't be able to sell it off, not after what had happened to the last tradesman who had taken armor or arms off him. Direct coin however was much more dangerous to leave in her uncles care.

Ignoring the heavy metal armor, she instead went to a chest filled with a set of leather, cloth and fur. It was as ferelden as it came, and looked as if it could have been the fancier clothing of a lord.

Which is exactly what it was. During her time as a smuggler and burglar, she had once come across a shipment that was meant for Arl Howe of Amarantine. She had unsurprisingly swept the entire cargo, and taken it back home.

Given that, as she had correctly predicted, Howe had been killed eventually and all his goods seized by the crown, she now owned a full set of fancy leather whose owner had gotten his head cut off and wouldn't miss it.

Her family hadn't really been fan of the clothing, and they had ended up selling most of it to deal with their debts, equipment and bribes. She had however kept this one. And to help deal with the massive heat she had gotten it enchanted to help keep her cool in the heat of the free marches.

How anyone could stand living here without the glory that was Self cooling clothing, she would never know.

Along with her leather and Furs, she had gotten out a set of daggers. Other than being red Bloodstone, they were not particularly unique, just two well made blades of blood red metal.

Finally, she got her belt along with it's many pouches, containing health potions, grenades of both the fire and poison variety, and some other stuff.

Finally having all she needed, she looked up. The windows were around 3 meters above. She had done that jump before when she really needed it, but there was a much easier alternative. So she took a running start up towards the corner, then, as a bolt from the spring, she ran, jumped up and hit the wall, not stopping moving as she just jumped again, this time from the wall and up through the window.

Rather than sailing through and out on the streets, she instead grabbed a wooden beam sticking out from an old abandoned wooden construction Tower, and using the momentum she still had, to carry her up and on top of it, in a non completed circle.

The she carefully began to crawl over the protruding beam, unto the roof.

As she came to the other edge, she took a quick look, around the small open space between the houses. The street seemed deserted. No one to see whether she had left. At least none that she could see.

Hoping for the best, she instead began to make her way across the roofs of Lowtown. Lowtown was a misnomer off a name. Even the lowest level of the district was a good 40 meters above the sea, with only the direct harbor district was being on on the Sea level.

No the name instead referred to it's relation to the other part of town. Hightown, up on the giant cliffs which Kirkwall had been carved out off. And a Hightown it truly was. Over a kilometer up from the sea, it towered above everything, a city on a cliff of filthy black stone.

As she made her way across the rooftops, she passed the great furnaces, which the entire Economy of Kirkwall relied on.

Hawke had never really understood WHY Kirkwall had ditched it's status as the greatest producer and exporter of stone in the world, but it had. And in the place of Stone, it now exported the vast majority of Arms and Armor to all of the Free Marches.

One would Think that the biggest producers of Equipment for War on the continent would be able to field a decent Army, but from everything she had seen in her one Year Here, that was about as likely as Andraste coming Back to kick out the Qunari from the North.

Pretty Much all of Kirkwalls government was Shit. It's Armed Forces(She refused to call it an army) was a complete Joke, outside The City Guard, which was competent enough, but also undermanned as fuck, and from what she'd seen, corrupt as all get out.

Without competent Land Forces, the city had lost more and more territory over the Years, until now, when it controlled only the City itself and a small parcel of Land around it. The fact that despite all of this, it was amongst the three most powerful of the Free Marcher Cities along with Starkhaven and Tantervale, spoke leagues of just how deep a rut the marchers were in in the modern Day.

Hawke had been meaning to read up on how the hell the Marches had gone from one of the most prospering places on thedas , to it's current mess.

Back in her old life in the Ferelden army, she had taken pride in knowing exactly how Ferelden had regained it's independence, and what role the army she was part of played in not only retaining that independence, but also in guarding it's roads, keeping the peace and order, and marching out and putting down the odd invasion from the Avvar tribes whenever they got uppity and began to raid into the Ferelden Valley.

However, the life of smuggling, thievery and the occasional looting which was now her existence, did not leave much time to read or study, nor did she have the coin to waste on things such as books.

She had other more life essential things to use them for. Like Bribery in order to stay ahead of the templars.

After maybe 20 minutes of running, jumping and maneuvering under the Moonlight, across the city rooftops, she came to the place she had aimed for.

Lowtown was divided into sections, each one which could easily be closed off from each other. It had always reminded hawke of a fortress city, but not quite.

Gwaren's city harbour had been made so that even if an army invaded, there was very little land between the outermost wall and the water. Not much land for an invader to use when mounting an attack, and while there were buildings, they were all made of wood and could easily be burned in case of a siege, to deny cover.

Kirkwall's harbor however, was made with truly staggering amount of space and buildings between the harbor and the first wall. A gross tactical mistake, which she had never understood.

Even more so, when one knew about the glaring weak spots in every single one of the district walls. Namely the fact that every single one of them had been riddled with openings into the City's underground, locally known as Darktown.

It was to such an opening Hawke had come this night.

The openings into what had once been the City's great mining quarry littered pretty much the entire city, from the sides of the great stairway and down.

Some were boarded up, some had gotten houses built around them by Carta and Coteri Gangs, or Smugglers, all in an effort to establish a monopoly on specific entrances. Some had been cracked down on hard by the City Guard in an attempt to restore order and kill the various enterprises that used them. Others were allowed to remain due to bribes.

The one Hawke was using was one that now you only could get to through the rooftops now. Either by poor planning, or a deliberate move, the alleyway that was around the alley had been closed off over the years, with there now being stone walls on all sides.

Hawke had discovered it during her first few months in Kirkwall, when she had first began to map out the roofs and alleys. The roofs were as spike covered as the rest of the lower city, but despite the constant danger of impalement, she had found the spikes to be a rather good way to recall specific houses and buildings, given that pretty much no spine had weathered the elements the same way, most having rusted away to some degree or another, leading to rust spikes that were all unique and often easy to memorize.

The hole into Darktown was barely hidden at all, with nothing more than a wooden crate with only 3 sides and no top in front of it. Truth be told it served no purpose, but Hawke felt the instinctual need to cover it anyway. As far as she was concerned, it was Her entrance, and she would prefer as few people as humanly possible knew about it.

Once she had gently pushed the remains of the crate aside, and entered into the darkness, she pulled out a series of things from her belt in a quick succession. First a wooden rod, then a piece of cloth along with a string which she wrapped hard and tightly around one side of the rod. Then a small metal jug, whose contents she spilt out over the piece of cloth. Finally a small flintlock device. It took her only one try to get fire going.

Once the homemade Torch was alit, she took it in one hand, while unsheathing one of her daggers in the other.

It was next to impossible to be stealthy carrying a torch in the darkness, so she would need to directly fight if it came to that. Which it probably would, knowing her luck.

Then she descended into the all consuming darkness.

* * *

"You think she'll come?" It was a simple question. Answering it one time should have been enough

"Yes, for the love of the Creators, she Will come James. Please stop asking that question."

Apparently not it seemed. The damned Moron that was his partner had asked him that one question maybe 7 times now.

Their employer Murdock ignored the two of them as they talked, as he was wont to do, instead focusing on his little black book. They were waiting on one of his "Beneficiaries", a rogue of some reputation, whose sister was… He honestly didn't know. All he knew was that Murdock knew something about her, and The Rogue; Hawke, paid him a monthly sum not to divulge it further.

And Being a Crazy Dwarf, he had chosen the most insane place to meet her. A part of lowtown that occasionally was infested by giant spiders. They had thankfully not meet a colony of them, but there had been a few of the crawly monsters roaming around, which had had to be dealt with.

His axe still was wet with the blood of the giant arachnids. He shuddered just thinking about it. He never could stand the creatures. By far the creepiest beings the creators had made in the world.

Lamellar was a Dalish elf. Or rather he used to be. He had made the rather massive blunder of fraternising with human women on the clans travels. Which Had not made him popular amongst the clan, but hadn't gotten him kicked out or anything of that magnitude. Then he had made the rather massive mistake of fraternizing with the daughter of a countess of Wycome.

Unsurprisingly, they had been caught in the act, and to save herself, the lady had named it rape and that had been that. His clan had declared him dead them and disavowed his action, as well as hastily leaving the easter Free marches. The countess had gotten him sentenced to castration and then death by breaking on the wheel, a sentence he had only avoided by having a hidden lockpick, and a violent escape by murdering several guards.

After that, he had been a criminal on the run, finally ending up in Kirkwall, finding a in the Dwarf Murdock. The crazy Dwarf had completely ignored his past so long as he was able and willing to fight and kill for him. Extorsion, murder, thievery, beating up people if they didn't pay up debts. He'd been around the blocks of kirkwall.

He couldn't move in the daytime, but hey, other than that it was a good life.

He'd considered ditching it for the new elvhen state in the Bracilian Forest that had been established after the Blight. But he had decided against it. For one, he didn't believe it would stick around. What had happened to the last attempt was a good warning of what could happen to this one. For another thing, he did not want to risk getting discovered by his old clan, who might instead rat him out to the new King, and from what he had heard about the man, that would probably mean a boat back to Wycome to face the Music.

No thank you. Kirkwall it was.

The White City of chains was the void in general, but for the most part he didn't have anything against his new lot in life. Getting paid to kill and beat up shemlen? Now there was something he could live on.

"She's running a bit late isn't she? She's usually very punctual on her meetings."

Now if only he didn't have to put up with this nitwit Human mage. Arl had been palling around with Murdock since before Lamellar came around to Kirkwall, and by the dreadwolf he had wanted to strangle him since their first meeting.

"She's half an Hour Late, which given the last meeting we had with the Carta ended up being 4 Hours after schedule, isn't bad at all. Now, please, Shut up, i'm trying to read." their employer finally piped in. As he talked he looked down on a small circular device which had a lock on top. He closed said lock and put the device back in his pocket as he resumed reading the small book he always seemed to carry with him.

Handy they were, Time Machines, or Clocks as the dwarves called them. Apparently it was an invention from Orzammar, which Murdock had somehow gotten his hands on. How, he didn't know, nor ask.

Murdock was not a powerfully built dwarf. Instead he was lean and skinny, with a bald head and clean shaven chin. If not for his old face, he might have been confused with a human adolescent.

His clothing was a set of leather with Steel Plates interwoven, and in his belt he carried a Sword.

As for Lamellar and Arl, the two of them wore Lamellar plate Armor and a long steel chainmail respectively. No big, expensive armor for them. Lamellar had his old trusty axe from his Younger days, while Arl carried a staff, the moron that he was. He had never understood why someone who was desperate not to be identified as a mage would carry a mage weapon. Why not a spear? Or better yet a Halberd. It was a staff and axe in one, could a more perfect weapon be imagined?

The three of them were for the moment in a long abandoned room, which Murdock sometimes used as a meeting place. Aside of being really hard to find and a with only one door and containing various chairs and old tables, it was not a room much different than countless others in Lowtown. If he had to guess looking at the old tables and a few(long since looted) drawers and chests, he'd guess this had once been an administrative office while the mines were in use.

With only one door, and a bigger room outside which only had two doors, the other leading to the corridors, this likely had been a gathering place for those in charge.

They waited quietly for a bit more, Murdock reading and occasionally scribbling in that book of his, Arl twitching and nervously scratching his neck like he always did when he was anxious, And Lamellar actually watching the door like he was supposed to.

Then, with no warning they heard the other door, loudly open, and in a flash all three of them tensed. With a loud rusty creaky outer door, it was impossible to get to the door in their room unnoticed. Which was one of the reasons Murdock used this place. It was impossible to enter this inner room stealthily.

Arl, quickly began casting a spell of Haste, to speed up their reflexes and movement speed compared to Hawke in case a fight broke out. Lamellar readied his long axe and shield. Murdock meanwhile looked a bit worried, but made no move to unsheath his blade.

With rather unceremonious movement, the door opened to reveal Hawke as Lamellar had last seen her. Dressed in the leathers and fur of a Ferelden "Barbarian"(why she was supposedly more barbarous than every other just as uncivilized Human he had never understood), with a torch in one hand and a set of blades sheathed in her belt.

Hawke was a rather tall Human, with short black hair which kinda reminded him more of a raven than a hawk, and eyes cold and blue like the Sky. The most notable part of her face was a Red Mark across her face, which he had assumed was warpaint, but it had never changed how it looked at all during any of the times he had seen it. She had a beautiful strong face he supposed, but that mark ruined her as far as he cared.

She stood there for a moment, taking the three of them in, while making no move to attack.

Finally Murdock broke the silence.

"Hawke!" he said with a forced grin. "I'm Glad you Made it, i hope the Spiders didn't give you any trouble."

"Oh it went Well enough." Hawke replied with a much more relaxed smile than Murdock. "They had me Climbing up the walls, to get out of the Sticky fight i had on my hands. I had to use some Poison bombs to deal with them.

He… Never did understand the appeal of Hawke's stupid puns, but he wasn't stupid enough to actually bring it up. He was here to look intimidating and fight if necessary, not to question dangerous people on their shitty jokes.

Murdock apparently felt the same way.

"Good to Hear. I hope the expenses for the Bombs aren't too detrimental for your expenses".

Hawke's eyes narrowed dangerously though her smile did not fade, and for a moment all his muscles tensed in preparation for a fight, but as her hand went to her belt calmly, she did not go for one of her daggers, but instead for a small bag.

She lazily threw it on the table in front of Murdock,who grabbed it immediatly after it hit the table. The unmistakable sound of coins clinking together was heard from inside when it hit the table.

"50 Silvers, as usual. You really don't need to count, but knowing you, you'll do it anyway."

If Lamellar's previous experiences with Hawkes payment meetings was any indication, they really didn't. She always paid, exactly what she promised.

"Maybe not, but i never make exceptions Hawke. Not good for a man in my business you know."

Despite his words, he did not open the bag to begin counting, instead putting the bag on the table.

"One day you decide to skip the actual counting, and what do you know, next month you get a bag of worthless Iron Coins and discover that the guy skipped town the next day."

He shot her a smile which made it obvious he wanted to chat some more about something else.

"So, i hear you've decided to throw your chips in with the Tethras expedition? Not a smart move, i'dd say, but if you wanna throw your life away in the deep roads, i really dont give a shit."

Wait what?

"Oh i'm sure i'll manage. After all, it's just endless tunnels filled with Monsters from the Void. How hard could that be?"

Despite her confident and lackadaisical tone, Lamellar was not daft enough to take that unconcerned confidence seriously. The Deep Roads was a nightmare to delve into. No one who delved into them ever came out.

He'd heard of The tethras Expedition of course, all of Kirkwall had, but people who wanted to get involved were generally sponsors, no one were stupid enough to actually wanna sign on to actually delve into it. The blight was over now, and while there was some time before the monsters fully got back into filling the tunnels in full, surely the vast majority of the horde had gotten back below ground.

No one could possibly be stupid enough to sign on to this thing knowing that there was a huge chance the chance to get in and out without meeting darkspawn had passed.

Apparently Hawke had not gotten this Memo.

Murdock chuckled, and continued.

"That's what i like about you. Confidence and insane bravery. Still, maybe you'll actually come back, who knows?".

His grin faded and was replaced by a melancholic look, as he looked at Hawke.

"Nothing's certain in the world, Hawke. As i've learned to my sorrow."

Hawkes smile faded as well, as she returned his melancholic look. "I'm Sorry to hear about your sons."

Murdock did not answer, and instead sighed. Said sons were supposed to have been the next leaders for their group, but they had gotten their skulls caved in by a carta Brawl last month. It had left a pretty clear question of who would lead after Murdock, a question which seemingly had no answer.

"In all seriousness, Hawke. Do you have any plans for when you come back? Assuming you actually find an unspoiled Thaig, you'll be rich as sin."

"Oh i was thinking of maye buying myself a Dukedom. I hear the Flansene Forest is lovely this time of year."

Murdock chuckled.

"If you wanna follow up a trip to the Blasted deep roads with moving to Demon infested woods, be my guest. But i'm guessing you're gonna be buying back some of the old Amell estates right? Your uncle Lost quite a bit of the Hightown Market. Wouldn't hurt to get back some old land."

Hawke's sly smile was back as she replied "Maybe, but it's not the most pressing thing in the world. After all, it's just stone Buildings. They aren't going anywhere."

"No, probably not. Still, we'll keep doing business i'm sure." Murdock finally began to open the bag, which had been tied hard shut with quite a strong knot, as Hawke usually made.

"So how's that other Sibling of yours? The whining brat?

"Carver? Oh, he's A bit sourely lately, but thats the usual with him. He was sourely the last ten years, he's been sourely this last year and he'll undoubtedly be sour the next decade as well."

If Hawke took any offence to the tone Murdock used to describe her brother she did not show it. From what he had seen the boy was an old grouchy man in the body of a boy just entering manhood. The old storyteller in his clan had been similar, but at least the people he bitched about ruining his life had been long dead.

"Yeah, no doubt. He's got a chip the size of Orzammar, that one. And lazy as a fat cat too. Not a good combination for an up and coming warrior."

He grunted as he began to put some actual power into opening the knot.

"You wanna make something of yourself in this city, you gotta put in the effort. That's… Nrrg… what i like about you hawke. Always putting effort into shit."

The knot finally came undone and the bag opened.

In a burst of sickly green color, the entire half of the room they was engulfed in a thick of green smoke.

Lamellar had been watching Hawke fully and completely. If he had actually paid attention to the bag, his haste enchanted body and reflexes would probably would have managed to leap forward out of the cloud itself. But he hadn't, and he didn't.

Sloppy! Sloppy idiot!

His lungs burned, like knives were cutting into his lungs, it felt like he had inhaled sharp glass dust. He had gone to his knees, gasping for air all the way. The smoke quickly began to dissipate into the small holes in the wall for ventilation, but that didn't help him much. The pain did not go away.

Across the room, he heard Arl desperately trying to cast spell, despite the wretched sound of what the gas had done to his throat.

"THUNK"

The sound of Arl hitting the floor followed.

Lamellar forced himself to look in the direction of where Arl had stood, despite the pain which seemed to be cleaving his skull into pieces from the sheer agony.

The PAIN! THE DREAD TAKE THE PAIN!

Arls dead face looked stared into his direction, seeing nothing. A dagger had embedded itself into his forehead, thrown with such force it had gone all the way to the crossguard.

His eyes went to Hawke. The bitch stood calmly on the other side of the large room. Far out of the range of her own poisonous grenade.

As they writhed in pain on the floor, the Bitch was watching them trying to cough up their own lungs, she calmly waited, until the smoke had dissipated entirely.

Then she began walking towards Murdock. Lamellar desperately tried to grip for his axe which had dropped when the pain took over all his thoughts. He had to find his axe.

His hand grabbed over the floor desperately, where was his axe? He had to find it, had to protect Murdock. His hand clenched around a pole. There!

With the final ounces of strength, he shot up, and with all his force he wrenched the axe from the floor, back over his head, and then in a power overhead swing he brought it down on that treacherous Bitch's head!

Or at least he tried to. Hawke didn't even bother to side step, or step backwards to avoid the blow. And she hadn't needed to either. In his pain, his aim had completely gone off and he had brought the axe down half a meter in front of Hawke.

Other than cutting air and cleaving a bit of stone on the ground, it had done precisely no damage.

Hawkes leg connecting to his face did considerably more however.

He crashed on his back, having gone straight down. For a moment the world went silent, only ringing noise in his ears. Then everything returned, the PAIN. Now added by even more so as he had even more difficulty breathing. The kick had broken his nose. The pain from that would probably be staggering, but right now the pain from his burning lungs overrode anything else. The closed airway of his nose, just made it worse.

As he writhed on the ground, in a fit of the most searing pain he could imagine, the voice of Murdock suddenly came back.

"YOU…. Ferelden… Cunt…" Between each word he gasped for air,but the words came out clearly enough. Those dwarven lungs sure was something.

Hawke evidently felt the same way.

"Oh you can still talk? Impressive. I've never tried this mixture on Dwarves before, it would seem it's nowhere near as effective as it is on elves, and humans"

"You…. Fu...Fucking..Bitch… you… Wont… get…Away…. with….this…"

Hawke chuckled in a way which did not not seem appropriate for murdering three men.

"Oh, i rather rather doubt that. I liked your sons well enough Murdock, but truth be told, those were the only ones who you confided shit in. I followed and watched you enough to know that. I very much doubt the rest of your gang know why i paid money to you."

A short pause followed, then the sound of pages being flipped slowly.

"That's the problem with keeping all your secrets in on Box, Murdock. It's Sooo easy to get rid off. Oh, my these are a lot of apostates you blackmail for silence, and… And a templar family as well? My what would the order say?"

The sound of something burning intensified for a moment.

"Your knowledge of my sister, was the only thing i feared about your gang Murdock. I never dared to kill you before in case one of your boy's managed to blab to the templars before i tracked them down. With their death, i just had to deal with you. Now with you gone, i can safely hunt down your little group as i please, without worrying about information being leaked before i'm done with all of them."

"I mean, really Murdock? Did you think this little relationship of ours was going to end any other way? I've been wanting to do this for half a year now."

The quick sound of a dagger being unsheathed was followed by another "THUNK".

Then, footsteps towards Lamellar.

He forced himself up as best he could, gasping for air all the way. He managed to weakly prop himself up on his elbows, so he wasn't completely flat on his back.

He stared hatefully up at the face of the Ferelden Dog Lord, and tried to at least curse her if he couldn't do anything else.

"Crrrst… Urrr.. . Crrt…"

The Bitch Chickled.

"Not the most inspiring words, Lamellar Verdun."

He blinked in shock despite the pain.

"Yes i know who you are, Verdun. You're the elf who raped lady Rebecca of Wycome."

Seriously? Now in his last moments he was going to be accused of that old bloody lie? Not even in his final moments could he escape that fucking accusation.

The red blade shined in the torchlight. Then it came down.

* * *

After she finished up looting the bodies, hawke made sure both the doors would remain open by putting some debris in front of them. That way, the spiders would not have anything stopping them from getting in. She had paralyzed the three she had come across with a paralyzing poison bomb instead of just killing them. Just so they would clean up after her once they regained mobility.

The scent of blood was thick in this area, they would come quickly enough after the toxin wore off.

With a bag slung over her shoulder, and a renewed torch in her other hand, she began the trek out of the mountain and back to the city.

The loot had been pitifully small. She'd given murdock around 5 sovereigns over the course of his blackmail, and in the end she'dd only found a whole 77 silvers on the three in total.

At least the rapist elf had been kind enough to wear lamellar armor, whose pieces made up the bulk of what was in the bag. Other than that, she'd found a few trinkets on the three of them.

Murdock had a couple of silver rings she could probably sell for a bit, the Elf had an axe, whose head she'd taken along with the lamellar pieces and the mages Chainmail.

The mage also had a small locket with a drawn picture in it of a family. She'd left that, however small a comfort it would have been for his soul, what with his body about to be devoured by giant spiders.

She'd felt somewhat bad for him. Probably just some poor schmuck apostate who worked for murdock for protection. The elf was a convicted rapist, and She had been planning to jam a dagger in Murdocks forehead from the start of his blackmail.

This was how it worked in Kirkwall though. When a crime group threatened you and yours, you wiped them out to the man. Else they resurfaced later to take revenge. She'd had that happen…. 10.. 12 times? Carver had gotten a spear through the gut the last time, and bethany had almost gotten an axe to the face the time before that.

She was not planning on it happening again.

The only piece of loot of real value had been the small Time Machine she had found in Murdocks pocket. It was a handy thing probably worth 3 sovereigns all on it's own, but she wasn't planning on selling it.

That thing would be so bloody useful for her going forward, there was no way she was selling the time machine for any sum.

Well, unless if someone would buy it for more than 10 sovereigns she supposed. It was useful, but if someone was willing to cash out that much for it, she would sell it.

After walking for what felt like ages, she finally came to her hole, and pushed the box out and out of the way. The night was nearing it's end, but the sun had not risen yet. Though the color of the sky was brightening.

Better hurry home then.

After closing back the hole, and some acrobatics to get back up on the roofs, she began her trek across the spike covered roofs back to Gamlen's house.

As she finally came to her home street, the sun finally came up in the east, turning the city to a sand colored mess of buildings.

Once upon a time this city had been a beautiful snow white, the White City of Chains. A pretty cage for a gathering of slaves the world had never seen the likes off, and hopefully never would again.

She looked out over it, and took in the sight. Down below her, the massive Harbour was filled with hundreds of Ships, all arrayed from east to west in a bulwark of wood. Massive War Galleys of the Kirkwall Navy, the smaller Cogs of the fishermen, Great trading ships from Rivain, the Ferelden Longships with their snakelike hulls, the Tevinter Dromonds with the tubes of bronze for raining death upon their enemies, the Antivan Carrack unmatched in height.

It was a sea of color and banners, as flags flew in the blowing wind, each proudly declaring to whom their captains declared their allegiance. The High Lords said it was the never stopping furnaces of war, which was Kirkwalls heart. And maybe that was so, but it was this Harbour which was the source of all it's Wealth.

From here, goods came and went, arms and armor went out and in flowed everything under the sun. Food, silks, leather, wine, poison, ingredients, cloth, wood, enchanted goods, trinkets and baubles.

Kirkwall had lost almost all it's territories outside the city Walls, yet somehow it still remained one of the greatest and richest Cities in the World. And all of it was thanks to this massive Harbour, guarded against the storms by it's tall outlying islands, yet still accessible from west, south and East.

It truly was the perfect spot for a Harbour.

The city around it did not fare nearly as well. Lowtown was a mess all around, with no wall directly by the sea to protect it, small, narrow twisting and confusing roads, and clustered buildings with no planning whatsoever.

Which was ironic, because the city had been made in what had originally been a very well planned out and consistent manner, where every single district was laid out in a nice orderly manner.

Connecting Lowtown to it's High Counterpart, was the great stairway as it was called, a massive set of incredibly big, wide and monumental Stairs, hewn out of the mountain side.

These massive stairs led up to the eastern part of Hightown. While not small by any means, the part of the city on the eastern side of the river, was only a third the size of western Hightown. It was mostly where the City's food storages were, as well as storages.

On the other side of the massive bridge across the river, was the True Hightown. White, and monumental, with tall(very unnecessarily so, considering how unlikely a direct attack from the air was.) white walls, and towers the likes of which Hawke had only seen surpassed by Fort Drakon of Denerim. It was a truly majestic sight, and the Viscount's keep was a Citadel worthy a King.

Pity then that the Viscount was a weak, vasslating idiot. Not quite a leader worthy of the keep.

To the left was the Grand Chantry of Kirkwall, but she ignored it. The maker was in every chantry, and to be blunt, she had never understood why this one was somehow better than any other due to size. Not to mention it had once been the estate of a slaving tevinter magister.

One would think the Chantry could have had a new and less charged building used for the City's religious center, but apparently not.

Finally, there was the Gallows, the island fortress which dominated the bay of Kirkwall. It was a good strong fortress, which Hawke's only problem with it, was it's current occupiers, namely the Templar Order.

A place to avoid like the plague.

Finally, she decided she had gotten enough of the view, and like a bolt, she made the jump and acrobatics to enter the house.

She needed to get a few hours nap before the Big Day. Today, she was joining on unto an expedition which would bring Wealth on the level which would fix all her woes.


	2. Chapter 2

**"NO" **

Well that answer was as clear as it could be.

The three of them, Hawke, Bethany and Carver had made the long, boring and arduous journey up the accursed steps from lowtown to Hightown(why they hadnt installed a lift system, Hawke would never understand.) to meet their business contact, the man responsible for the planned journey into the deep roads.

Barthrand Tethras, one of the most famous and successful business men in Kirkwall.

He had been less than enthusiastic to see them, or hear about their offer to join on as armed hands.

"Andraste's Tits human, you know how many people wanna hire on to this expedition?"

They had meet Barthand as he was walking through the dwarven Section of Hightown, and approached him on his walk. His complete disinterest in any of them, was a bit of a surprise, given they had been invited to speak with him by a letter from his estate signed Tethras.

Either that had been a prank Letter or something more sinister was going on. As Carver tried to play the diplomat, Hawke already began to take in the buildings and street. No convenient back alleys for assassin's to hide in here, unlike lowtown. All the roads were wide enough for a 5 Carts to comfortably move side by side with more than room to spare. Quite a step up from Lowtown she had to say.

The men were not particularly threatening either. There were a couple of guards, but other than that the only one she saw with weapons was a bodyguard for some noble, and a Dwarf with a scar across her face from the top of her head to the bottom of her jaw. She recognized her as Carta. The woman looked wearily at Hawke but made no move to approach or attack.

This is the sort of venture that can make a man for life! I'm not about to take any chances hiring random humans along.

"Look." Carver began his appeal. "We know youre going into the Deep Roads, and you'll need to hire the best,and we're-"

Barthrand finally had enough and spun on his heels as he stopped flat in his movement.

**"NO!" **He repeated in a tone that made it clear that as far as he was concerned this little chat was done.

He spread his hands to his sides open palmed as if he was making a speech to someone standing above him and continued.

"You're too Late. Already done."

Carver, however refused to give up so easily. And being Carver he inserted his foot in his mouth the moment he began to talk.

"The money from this trip could fix **Everything! **You need us, we've fought Darkspawn! "

Judging by him pinching his brow hard as Carver talked, She could tell he was not impressed by carver talking about how desperate They were and needed this money. Neither was she to be honest. When you negotiated with someone you never revealed how badly you depended on them.

"Look precious, i don't care if you tore the Horns of an ogre with your Bare hands."

Well, even she couldn't make that claim, she had indeed killed an ogre once but that was with a knife through its brain. Impressive enough on it's own, but obviously they needed more than deed of arms(And Totally unprovable claims of said deeds) to win this battle.

Carver threw up his hands**. **"Fine, you Make him understand, Sister, you're the one who dragged us here after all."

Well, she couldn't exactly fuck this up worse than carver, it was worth a try.

"You're obviously sceptical, so how about we get to know each other first. Before we make any deals. I'll buy you a drink while we chat. Everyone wins."

Ok, so that was pathetic, but Carver had given her an abysmal hand to work with.

Barthrand obviously agreed. He snorted. "Get in line human, half of Kirkwall wants to be my best friend right now."

He looked Hawke in the eyes, contemptuous and annoyed, then his expression changed, into something one could call melancholic.

"You're looking for a quick way out of the slums right? Just like every other Ferelden in this Dump.

He looked Hawke in the face, but it was obvious to her he didn't see her. He was thinking of something else, days gone by most likely.

The moment ended as quickly as it had began,with his eyes focusing again on her face with with the same contemptuous anger.

"Find another meal ticket."

At that he walked past them without a word. The only thing that could have made that more definite would have been if he made a rude gesture as he walked away.

"Well." Hawke filled the awkward silence that followed as all three of them just looked after Barthrand. "That could have gone better."

"Great." Carvers expression looked like that of a sullen boy who just got thrown out in rain to do some work outside.

"Back to waiting for someone to turn us in i guess."

"What are we going to do now?" Bethany piped in, voice nearing a breaking point. The poor girl had desperately wanted this venture to succeed. Unlike Carver who just followed her lead, she had been eager when Hawke brought up the business venture for the family.

Which in turn had just made her way more invested into this thing than Carver had been.

"We've got nothing to stop the next person who tries to sell us out. This expedition was our last chance…"

She trailed off, looking at Hawke desperately, hoping her big sister would have anything to say to put her mind at ease.

She gave her a big smile and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry bethany, i won't let any big bad templars come get you."

The tone was warm and cheerful, and honest. She would kill every templar in this city before she let them put a finger on her baby sister.

Bethany however, didn't see it that way.

"It's not a joke!"

Before Hawke could reply that it wasn't a joke, she continued on.

"If the bloody templars find me, the best i can hope for is them locking me up for the rest of my Life! If they don't just kill me outright! The stories about Meredith are…. Just awful."

Awful indeed. Hawke wasn't sure what rumors Bethany had heard, but she had a couple of contacts in the Gallows. Meredith, was a monster, the absolute worst kind of bitch that the templars were so proud to breed.

Five months prior, the Commander of Kirkwalls Templars had learned of some secret letters between a woman and a young mage barely of manhood, secretly passed along by a templar. In response to this little love affair She had gelded the boy's mind as punishment and thrown the templar out of the order. The woman had disappeared with no trace, most likely murdered on the commanders orders.

She laid her hands on Bethany's shoulder with a calm, soothing grip.

"I'm not joking Bethany, i'm not going to let any Templar do anything to you."

"We need more than empty promises Sister." Carver butted in.

"You have a grand plan to get us out of this mess i hope? Your grand plan to get on to the expedition was a bust. What's plan B?"

His tone and look was annoyed, but she knew Carver enough to know he cared about this. A lot.

"Well, i have some. But we should probably discuss them back home. Not here on the open street."

They weren't close enough to anyone that there was any obvious eavesdroppers(thankfully, or Bethany's little outburst would have meant they would have to skedaddle the city entirely.

"It's going to be fine Bethany, i promise."

The young apostate mage did not seem convinced, but she gave a weak nodd.

"let's go home, then we can talk more."

After that they began to walk, back the long tiring way they had come up here through.

As they walked Hawke was looking over towards the exit of the Dwarven quarter, she took in the look of Hightown more. Oh, it was well laid out.

Like the original Lowtown, the groundwork had been excellent. In the Case of Western Hightown, the portion of the City had used a Grid System, with the main centers and exceptions to the symmetrical layout being the Viscounts Keep and the Grand Chantry. Other than those two sore spots, it was a great layout.

Unlike Lowtown however, the main problem now was not countless new building cluttering up the original designers groundwork, but a complete lack of Upkeep.

The ground was missing several tiles, many of the tiles still there had cracks, weed stuck up a lot in between, and the entire City's Marble was uncleaned pretty much everywhere that private Citizens did not own and clean their own building entrances.

It was a complete worn down mess, a visible sign that even amongst the Elite of this City, the White City was in immense decline.

She was too busy glowering over the scenery, that she didn't even notice anything amiss before Carver suddenly jelled out "**HEY!" **

Her head snapped back towards the the rest of the party, just quickly enough to catch a man with red hair, dressed in poor clothing running as fast as he could away from them and towards the closest turn in the roads.

He carried a small red pouch in his right hand, which she recognized as Carver's money pouch.

With no further talk she vaulted after him. In the blink of an eye, her Knife Was drawn. She considered nailing him in the back of the knee with a throw, but decided against it. He was too close to the turn in the road, she might miss as he turned the corner.

She would turn said corner and THEN nail him in the back.

The two other followed after her, but neither of them could keep up with her when she really ran.

As she rounded the corner, and readied her knife for the throw, the thief kept running, but turned halfway to see if they were following. An obvious mistake. The guy was new at this.

Then out of the blue, a mechanical "**Thud"** sounded, and the thief was slammed up against the wall.

Hawke blinked.

No not slammed. Dragged. A crossbow bolt had taken him straight in the shoulder. Or rather the cloth part of the man's tunic. The Bolt had gone straight into the wall. A metal tip above steel quality then. A precise shot,not to have gone through the man's flesh.

As the pickpocketer struggled to pull out the bolt, the man who had fired it stepped out of shadows of a small courtyard. The shooter was a remarkably finely dressed and groomed dwarf, with pulled back dirty blonde hair that ended in a short ponytail, Brown eyes, and a charming self confident smile which seemed to scream Smoothness.

His dress was a good quality leather coat of a variety which she recognized as being distinctly Kirkwall in the way it was made. Not Antivan Leather then.

Under said coat he wore a fine red Shirt, with a fine colden trimmed pattern. The buttons on said shirt(which was open up top, showing a truly impressive mane of chest hair.) was made of gold, which would have screamed richness even if nothing else did. It didn't stop there though. Around his waist was a fine green silken sash, in his ears, he wore 2 golden earings on the right side and one on the left. Finally around his neck he wore a necklace she vaguely recalled as being the style of Orzammar.

Maker almighty, how long had it been since she had been outside of Orzammar? It had only been 2 years now, yet it felt like a different age now.

As he walked across the street up to the thief he sheathed his crossbow in a holster across his back. It looked like an impressive thing, and very mechanical, though that was a field where her expertise did not reach however. She had no idea of the extra stuff actually did anything or not. Beyond looking impressive anyway.

"I knew a guy once who could every coin out of your pocket just by smiling at you, but you? You don't have the style to work hightown, let alone the merchants guild."

Andraste, Even his voice was smooth. He sounded like how old King Maric had sounded, back in the day before he died. Just with more confidence.

The Dwarf reached out a hand for the money pouch which the thief hesitantly handed him.

"Might wanna to find yourself a new line of work."

Then he punched the thief thief right in the face with a hook. As the man hang limply for a second, after taking the blow to the head, the Dwarf ripped out the bolt from the wall with a nonchalant, but firm pull, and let the man fall to his knees with only the comment "Off you go." as he walked away.

As he walked up to them he nonchalantly threw the pouch to hawke who snatched it before the arc even turned down.

"How do you do?" he asked with a grin, as he twirled the bolt around in his fingers in a move hawke had seen way too many crossbowmen learn in a desperate attempt to look cool and impressive.

The Bolt had an Obsidian tip(the metal, not the stone.), a valuable and good material, yet not as extravagant as the rest of his clothing. She had honestly expected Silverite or Veridium. The dwarf might be more practical than his loud outfit would have him seem.

"Varric tethras at your service!" the Dwarf Finally introduced himself, With a polite bow of the head as he put the bolt back in his back holster.

"Daemona Hawke, but i'm sure you already knew that." she replied with a courteous nod, a smile finally reaching her lips. The moment she heard his name, a number of Questions were finally falling into place.

The dwarf finally turned somewhat serious as he began the chat in earnest.

"I apologize for Barthrand, he wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw."

"But you would?"

"I would!" He answered enthusiastically, with a gesture of hands wide, raised towards her. It was apparently a common way for dwarves to show appreciation for humans here in Kirkwall.

"What my brother don't realise is that we need someone like you! He would never admit it either, he's too proud." he made a quick pointed thumb motion sideways towards the direction Bartrand had gone.

"I, however, am quite practical."

So, there was actually a chance this whole adventure might actually happen after all.

"You're the one who sent the letter asking us to come meet Barthrand i take it?"

The Dwarf gave a shit eating grin.

"Guilty as charged."

"Wait." Carver butted in. "You were the one who sent us that letter? Then why didn't you arrange to meet us yourself, instead of sending us to talk to your twat of a brother?"

Ah, there was carver with his trademark Diplomacy. Fortunately, Varric didn't seem to mind his kin being insulted.

"That was the plan actually. You would meet the doorguard to our Home, who would send a runner to me, then we could Talk privately before i brought the venture to Barthrand."

He waved a dismissive gesture.

"Unfortunately, Barthrand suddenly had some business which had him running to the other side of Hightown talk to someone, And… Well, he ran into you two on the way, and here we are."

So shitty luck then. Her life in a nutshell the past two years. Well, no use moaning about it, time to get this Hunt going.

"I'm Going to make a wild guess, that you are part of Barthrands venture right?"

"That's right, the deep roads wouldn't normally my thing, but i cant let the head of our Family to go down there alone."

"So as you might imagine, i have more than a passing interest in this expeditions success."

So, basically he was the opposite of her then, a second Child with the drive to make things work,and the ambition to make things happen. The thoughts of comparing him to Carver in Detail crossed her mind, but she dismissed the idea for now. There was more important things to worry about.

"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but You're going awfully far out of your way to hire just another set of guards. Even if that set includes me."

"Oh we don't need another hireling."

"We need a partner."

"Truth is, Barthrand has been pulling his beard out trying to fund this expedition on his own, but the truth is he cant do it."

She was starting to see where this was going, and she was not exactly thrilled about the idea. But she would let Varric finish before she gave her thoughts on the matter.

"So that's where you come in. Invest in the expedition. Fifty Sovereigns, and he cant refuse. Not with me there to vouch for you."

Ah, yes. Fifty Sovereigns. He might as well have asked her to go Conquer Orlais. That seemed about as likely to happen as her taking the around 7 sovereigns worth of shit she had stashed along with her 4 sovereigns and 62 Silver and increasing it sixfold.

She was about to open her mouth when Carver once again butted in.

"You'd do that? Stick your neck out to your Brother for a complete stranger?"

His tone was bewildered, as if he couldn't imagine trusting anyone outside family that much.

Varric's reply was smooth, like his hair.

"Oh, I'd rather take a chance on someone with Hawke's reputation than head down into the deep roads unprepared."

"And besides" he Gave them a smile and a wink "We'd be partners. I'm willing to give a little trust if you are."

Carver looked as if he had eaten a Lemon again, at that response.

"What, you haven't heard of the two of us at all?"

"Oh there's talk around the Town of the trio of siblings from Ferelden, but it's the dashing Rogue with the red Mark, Who's on everyone's lips these Days."

"That Figures." Carver said Bitterly.

"Frankly, i'dd rather Daemona Take all the credit." Bethany added.

Then, as Carver scowled at her for that response, Bethany decided that she too would but in with questions.

"Master Tethras, don't take this the wrong way, but Your brother doesn't seem like the sort to split profits. Would he really be willing to go through with this deal?

"Oh, my brother is many things, Sunshine, but he's not stupid. Far better to share the profits than to be trapped in a thaig with a thousand Darkspawn between you and the exit. Trust me. He'll come around."

Finally, Hawke decided to speak up with the question that actually mattered,before her younger siblings asked more questions.

"I hope there is more to this, like how i'm gonna get that much coin together."

"You need to think big. There's only a brief window after blight when the Deep roads won't be crawling with darkspawn. The treasure we find down there would be enough to set you and your family up for life."

"So, here's the deal, We work together, you and i, a couple of big jobs, and before you know it, You'll have all the Capital you need. What do you say?"

His smooth voice made it sound so bloody simple.

"I assume you have contacts i can use for this?" She asked, desperately hoping the answer was yes. If it was not yes, then this entire thing was doomed to failure from the Start.

"I know everyone in the city worth knowing. I can help you find big Jobs and small jobs. Anything you need to get the capital together, and if you don't need me for that… there's always bianca.

He pointed a finger at the seemingly advanced crossbow. So he named it after a woman. No shame in that, Carver had named his first blade Peaches after that girl he had been seeing "secretly" behind Barlin's shed. That said blade broke in the first fight against the Darkspawn was probably a sign that it was not meant to be.

As for his offer… well, it was either that, or go back to her alternative plan of gambling it all on a trade venture. The image of how quickly Gamlen had fallen putting his money into that pot came unbidden to her mind. Still there was one thing she needed to know still.

"I'm assuming that if i say yes, then i assume there's is a deadline for when i must have the money ready?"

"Oh, that. Yes, there is a deadline. Two months from now on, is the last point Barthrand is willing to go down there. Any later, and he won't risk it. We're already past the best change, during and right after the blight itself."

Made sense. Also, she'd have to kick up things up a notch if she was to actually make that happen in time.

Still, she could make it happen.

Maybe. Possibly.

"All right, i'll take the deal."

Varric smiled satisfied at her. "Perfect. Do you have anything planned, or do you want me to dig up a job for you? I have several big guys who would be interested in hiring someone of your talents."

Was that so? Well, she would go to those guys later. For now, she had something else planned. She had planned to let this go, but if Varric's network was as good as he claimed… Well she could do this then.

"No i have another Job planned. One which you could help with actually."

She motioned towards the Grand Chantry, which was easily visible from here.

"Tell, me, what do you know of Prince Sebastian of Starkhaven, ward of the Chantry."

"He's that guy in the shining white armor right? The one with Andraste's Face over his Pelvis? I've seen him around sometimes. Why?"

She smiled a wolf like grin.

"Well, as it happens his family was murdered Recently By the Flint Company."

"You're talking about the Mercenary Company, and not the guys making fire making Tools right? I kinda have difficulty imagine Barthand ordering a Royal family executed."

"Wait." Carver interjected. "Your Brother owns the Flint Making Company?"

"My family owns a lot of things Little Hawke." He replied in a cheery tune.

"In any case, he's paying a bounty for the heads of every single one of the Bastards who killed his family. Sooo… how about we take care of that?"

"We go take the head off some baby killers, bring back the heads and insignias back to the House of our Prince of Risque Imagerie, get royally rewarded, and have some drinks celebrating what good people we are?"

He gave her a sly knowing smile.

"Sounds good. I'm guessing you don't actually know where this Mercenary Company is right now, do you?"

"No idea whatsoever. But i'm sure you can find out for me."

He chuckled. "I'll see what i can do. Just give me some time"

"You Familiar with the Hanged Man? I'm assuming so, given you live literarly just down the street from it."

"The hanged man? You mean that filthy bar with wine that tastes like orlesian piss?"

Carver liked to visit that place when she gave him some cash to get drunk. He'd come home 2 times stark naked after a night of drinking there. The boy really had the worst taste in… everything.

"The one and Only. My home away from home."

The smile he had as he talked of the place reminded her uncomfortably of how mother had used to describe Kirkwall before Father died. He idealized the place. Why only the Maker knew, but she didn't really care about that right now.

"Anyway, hit me up there 2-3 hours after sunset, and i'll have some info on the Flint's for you."

"Until then, Hawke. Sunshine. Little Hawke."

Varric then gave a nod to each of them and a wave as he walked away.

Carver's waited until the Dwarf was fully out of earshot, before he began talking.

"Sister, are you-"

"Quiet Carver, i'm thinking."

A ton of thoughts went through her mind. She needed to get a lot of shit done before tonight. Firstly she needed to finish up the business she started with Murdocks gang. She needed to remove them completely so she didn't have to worry about them coming back to bite her while she was doing this.

Secondly, she needed to get the armor pieces sold. A deadline wasn't good for that. Armor sold best on demand. If you had to sell it on the spot with no time to wait for changing fortunes and demand, it was worth a lot less.

Then she had other shit to prep, like how she would fit Her meet ups with Aveline into this whole thing.

She wouldn't be free for this thing tonight, but maybe she could chat tomorrow? She sure hoped so. Aveline was much better to have on her side and back than Carver. He wasn't bad, just not that spectacular. Right now she needed spectacular.

"You two are going to spend the day selling the armory. Go to lowtown and sell it one bag at a time. Don't go two bags at once, that will just make it obvious we're desperate for sellers."

Carver was incredulous.

"What, **ALL **of it? That's a bloody 13 bags of armor youre talking about."

"What about the weapons?" Bethany piped in "Should we sell the weapons today too?"

"No we can sell that later, one on one buyers. It's always easier to get a weapons sold rather than armor. We don't need to clear it out as quickly as the armor. We need those sold now."

"Still, **ALL **of them? We spent a bloody year collecting all of that and selling the stuff carefully over time, and now you just wanna clear it out as soon as we can, damn the Price we get?"

"Yes Carver, we need money now, not a year from now. Oh, and Also, this probably goes without saying, but when i say all the armor i'm not including your personal stuff. Just wanted to clarify that."

"I'm not a bloody Simpleton Sister."

"Good to know. Then i'll meet you back at Gamlens Place once you're done."

"Also, if you get home before me, get some rest. We'll be staying up all night,best to grab some shuteye while you can. "

As she turned and began to walk towards the closest exit to Darktown she knew, she heard Groaning from the two siblings. They were not fond of all nighters.

Neither of them were built for this life to be honest. Carver was as if made for the simple life of a Grunt. Then He'd lost his chance at that life at Ostagar. Now he could do nothing but follow her lead. Just like he had done all his life despite all his grumbling.

As for Bethany… Well if they actually managed to make it rich, she'd probably be that Noble Lady Mother had always wanted them to be. That was never going to happen with her, that was for sure. But Bethany might manage it. Thrive in it even. She would also be able to never use her magic outside the deepest places of their home.

She had learned the lesson of the need for secrecy well. She'd meet mages who just couldn't do it. They had to just go outside and… Do something with their magical talents. That was not something Bethany would ever do though thankfully.

She finally came to the place, and sighed as she felt the smell of blood. It was going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter 3

The Hanged man. A den of drunkards and gamblers, where honest people came to do crazy, desperate and embarrassing things, which the awful wine would help them forget about the day after. Mixed in with those were everything from corrupt guards to smugglers to Mercenaries.

And of course there was the Loud Drunks. There was never a night where some fool didn't get piss drunk and become the center of attention for anyone new to the bar.

Like Right now on the barstool, some drunk Ferelden was making an ass of himself trying to woo Norah, one of the waitresses, with a song about some Ferelden Hero named Knut. Her unimpressed stoneface did not seem to deter him.

All Across the room, the smell of burned meat(Oxen today) and the smell of Ale, both spilled on the floor and on the tables mixed and hung clearly.

Really, though, it might be seedier and filthier than other Pubs and Taverns, but it wasn't the interior which made the Hanged Man stand out amongst the countless others of it's kind in the White City of chains.

No, that was it's people.

In the Corner close to the door, a cloaked lady who wanted the mess with Unflagged Kirkwall ships attacking Amaranthine vessels from Ferelden dealt with.

On another table a Woman who was part of the… Well he supposed terrorist group would be the best way to describe The Friends Of Red Jenny. Though from what he had heard and seen, they seemed to be a weirdass mix of thieves, pranksters, assassins and spies.

Either way, she had been looking for people to deal with the various Night Gangs who all tried to establish themselves in Kirkwall, each thinking they would succeed and rule the streets at night where the hundreds of gangs before them had all failed.

And by the bar there was a couple of pirates who was looking for someone to help their boss get some loot back which he had lost to some raiders.

As he had said to Hawke, this city had dozens of people who were willing to pay gold for someone with the skill to solve their problems, so long as you knew where to look. Or had a large spy network to do so for you, that worked too.

Roland drank a full tankard of ale in one go, before he continued his report.

"Yeah, they're out on the wounded coast alright." he pointed to a point on the map, a small fjord. "Here, it's not large enough to be on the map, but there's this small cove here, in the fjord itself. That's where the Soldiers are hiding." He took a draught from the second tankard Varric had prepared for him.

Varric himself never drank anything from the Hanged man itself, but it made other people nervous and suspicious when you sat there with nothing in your hands, so as usual, he had ordered a wine glass.

Roland on the other hand did drink here. He had to, he said. Drink was the only thing that helped when the cramps, and shivering were at their worst he claimed.

The Ex-Templar put down his half drunk tankard as he continued his tale.

"14 men, all well armored and well armed, Lameller and chainmail though, no proper plate. So whatever they are, they're not knights. And if i'm right, they're planning to stay for a while. They've got a fortified camp set up and everything."

"Anything else, i should know about? Traps, mages, Mabari, Blood Mages maybe?".

"No, no mages, blood or otherwise. Too heavy armor. It's not so easy to spot whether there is a mage in a group, but it's bloody easy to spot when there is none. You see-"

At that point he was interrupted by a guy entering the Bar entrance and yelling out "Varric Tethras? Has anyone seen Varric Tethras here? Brother of Barthrand Tethras?".

The man in question was a young dwarf in fine livery, and with a nervous expression as if he feared getting jumped and shivved at any moment. Which probably explained his reluctance to enter the bar proper, with him just standing in the doorway.

That was one of the two reactions the messengers had when they came to this place. Terror at the possibility of being jumped, or disgust at how filthy the place was. Or both.

"Never heard of him." The chorus from the pub rang out. The messenger from the Merchants guild, stood there for maybe 10 seconds more, his want to go into the pub and look for himself clearly fighting against his self preservation instincts of not walking into Dens of unfamiliar strangers. The fear won, and he left with the haste of a cat just having been caught in the pantry. A barmaid went and slammed the door shut behind him.

The Room went back to normal as if nothing had happened.

"Does… Does that happen often?" Roland asked with a puzzled expression.

"About 3 times a day, or so. At least Once every night. But we were talking about how to pick out mages in a crowd of soldiers. So…"

He poured more Ale into Rolands Tankard. "How do you do it?"

"Right, right." the shaking of his hands was back again, and he took another draught before he continued.

"The key is the armor. Mages don't wear true plate armor, unless they are Knight Enchanters from Orlais, and those guys are never outside the bloody Imperial Court. You don't see those as mercenaries or bandits."

"You see, plate armor interferes with the Mana Mages release when they casts spells, which makes it insanely hard for them to use magic. They need air ways to release it through, hence why almost all mages wear robes, or cloth, and if they have to go into real combat they wear Chainmail."

"It's like how men in plate need air in under the hot sun or they die of heatstroke. Just you know… instead the mages are suffocated by the mana residue which builds up under the plate, until it's too much and then **Boom**, that's the end of them."

"So the Perfect Analogy then. Obviously. So how does Knight Enchanters deal with it then? Knowing Orlais it something fancy and extravagant."

Roland Chuckled. "You'd think so but it's generally just the mage equivalent of Breathing techniques. They train so that the mana they expend forms outside the armor, not directly outside the skin. It's needs iron discipline and…. Okay, maybe that's not the best analogy."

Putting it lightly.

"Keep working on them, you'll get one right someday."

"Right…" He drank another draught. Given how many he tended to down, it was amazing he wasn't constantly drunk off his ass.

After looking down on his cup for a bit, he looked up and looked at varric with a genuine, Concerned look.

"You… You're not actually going down into the deep roads are you Varric?"

"Sure am."

"Don't go." He downed the rest of his Tankard.

"I don't know if you're just going for the dream of riches like that Bastard Brother of yours, or if you're tired of Kirkwall and want some variety. But seriously, DONT GO."

"No one comes back from the Deep roads. If your Brother is so damned set on Going, let him go by himself, then take over the Family once he's gone."

Ah, becoming family overhead, what a thought. Being responsible for the entire House, dealing with the Merchant Guild every day, marrying some Girl from another house and spend the rest of his life stuck in a miserable relationship…

In response to Roland he just gave a smile and shook his head.

"So how's the official odd's? Last i heard the Coterie had fifteen on one odds that we won't come back again."

"It's seventeen to one now."

He snorted "Really? Maybe i should get someone to bet for me, i'd earn a fortune to add on top of the expedition itself."

Roland gave him a melancholic look, shook his head and stood up.

"We'll talk later, i… I need to go lie down."

Then he left and went towards his room into the inner depths of the Hanged Man, leaving Varric alone to contemplate his drink.

While he settled in to wait for the Star of the evening, he tried to think up a story. Something to pass the time. His Last serial had ended not so long ago, and he was ready to start something new.

Maybe he should try an entirely new genre, his last three serials had all been smuggler stories. Maybe romance? Thoughts of Bianca filled his mind. No, he didn't feel in the mood for that. Or maybe he should try his hand at writing a Pirate story? He eyed the guys who worked under the Blood mage Pirate captain.

Maybe a heroic Mage who ended up with a bunch of Cutthroat pirates after running away from his circle, fighting against a contingent of templars hunting him, chasing him up and down the Eastern shore.

In his head an image formed, of a young, inexperienced Man, nut brown eyes, skin pale as snow and with A long black braid down his back. His expression, one of wonder at the world, but also a fear and aversion to Danger which always seemed to find him. A boy who had been forced to grow up before his time, scars across his body, a mark of his times with the templars. Very shy about them, blushing and stuttering if anyone sees them. Keep them hidden, robes at all times.

Hmm… Where to start it? Antiva? No, didn't fit the boy's Pale skin. Orlais? No, he was too raggedy, and his accent to course and hard. Hawke walked into the bar, alongside her two siblings. Ferelden it was, then.

Hawke took in the room with a measured, playful look. He waved them over to his table, as he fidgeted the map roland had given him, unrolling it across the table.

As the three Noticed him and began to walk to his seat, several of the bar eyed them, and the weapons The younger Hawkes carried over their shoulders. When they saw he had invited them over though, they let it drop.

They were a bit more impressive sight than last time he had seen them up in Hightown. Well, the younger ones were anyway, Hawke herself looked pretty much the same, just with some different bottles in her belt.

The Girl, Bethany, had ditched the Outfit she had worn to hightown, a rather bizarre mixture of cobbled together chainmail and regular clothing with open shoulders and a full view of her generous cleavage. The only thing she had kept from that was a red handkerchief, with a dark blue pattern around her neck.

Her new outfit was a mixture of leather, Some smaller plates, and as Roland had said of Mage armor, Chainmail was the highlight. On her left shoulder, she wore a single shoulder pad with the Mabari of Ferelden painted on it. Because it wouldn't be ferelden armor without a Dog on it.

Seriously, he had seen dozens of Ferelden fighters all over Kirkwall since the Blight, and pretty much all of them painted that dog on their armor someone. And maker forbid if they had a shield, they'd have incredibly intricate mabari Ramparts on them, painted with the cheap Paint you found on the Bazar in lowtown.

They really did love those dogs of theirs.

Rested over her shoulder she carried a spear, with a rather fancy Orange orb on the butt of it. The whole thing was fancy, but it would hardly be the first spear with ornamentation on it, but knowing what she was, he knew which side of that thing was the more dangerous.

On hawkes other side was Carver. At least, he assumed it was Carver, it was kinda Hard to tell for sure given the Armor.

Whereas back in hightown he had worn an outfit which looked more at home on a lumberjack than it did a warrior, here he wore a full set of armor of Plate and chainmail, with pieces of leather both holding it together and under it. The ensemble was topped by a Full plate armor with only a narrow visor for vision.

Unsurprisingly, it also had Mabari Symbols etched into it.

The whole assembly might have managed to make him look intimidating, but the whole thing was in such a shabby shape it was kinda amazing actually. Unlike the armor of his sisters, which seemed relatively untouched, Carvers armor was covered in scratches, dents and places where the armor had obviously been hammered back into place.

It didn't exactly give an impression of of a veterans armor, hardened by a hundred battles, but more one that had been hammered through and through, then sloppily hammered back into it's proper form.

Over his shoulder he carried a large two handed blade, which looked kinda like an oversized Butcher's knife. Made of Obsidian, it at least, was obviously well cared for, unlike the Kid's armor.

"Hawke! Good to see you. You as well sunshine." He added with a wink. "Sit down, sit down, want some Drinks while we chat?"

"No thank you Varric, i don't Drink on, before or during the job. Though that first and last one is kinda the same i suppose."

As the three sat down, he looked Hawke Over. She looked pretty much the same as he remembered her from earlier today. Yet, something was different. As he looked her over an unmistakable smell entered his nostrils, unmistakable even over the Heavy smell of alcohol and various other odors in the room.

The Metallic scent of blood.

Right. Not creepy at all.

"So what's the plan Dwarf?" Carver spoke up, confirming that it was indeed him. The metallic echo could not disguise the voice of a Boy just into manhood.

"I hope you actually managed to get the Info we talked about, or maybe your Boastings were just for show after all?".

Ah, a critic, those never got old.

"Oh, Dont Worry, ive got the info. On all three groups too, so there's no need to run around like headless chickens to find all of them."

"Three groups?" Hawke asked as she sat down. "How Large is this Company exactly?"

"Oh, about 50 members give or take."

"The Flint company is currently doing three different jobs, and are divided into three separate groups right now. The first-" He pointed behind him with his thumb, into the wall, towards the Dock's. "Is currently acting as Night guards for The Kirkwall Tolls and Customs."

"No guess for where we go first then." Hawke Chuckled.

"The second group." He pointed downwards on the map, on the spot Roland had marked for him. "Is Here, in a Cove that-"

"Wait." Carver interjection. "They're in the Cetus Cove? Why in Andraste's Tits would they be there?"

"I don't know little Hawke, i assume they're there on a job. Is there a reason they wouldn't be?"

He hadn't even heard of this Cove before today, but it would seem The Hawke Family had heard of it.

"It's a terrible spot for smuggling." Hawke explained. "The Cetus the place is named after died in the middle of the opening, and no one's been willing to go through the effort of removing the skeleton. So you can't get in and out of the cove by boat. And since it's so bloody far from the nearest road, it's not a good spot for bandits either."

"Well, terrible spot or not, that's where they are. Maybe you could tell them they're in the wrong spot for Caravan ambushes before we attack them."

Hawke smiled at that.

"That would be funny, but the element of surprise is too important to lose on that."

Her expression quickly went serious again.

"And the third group?"

His finger moved from the coast up into the mountains.

"There's apparently this Cave here which they're camped outside off."

Hawke Sighed. "So, a trek up to Sundermount. Great. Knowing my luck with that mountain, we'll find out the entire crew has been killed by the Dalish Ambassadors and they claimed the bounty already."

Carver looked down on the map, and traced the path from Kirkwall to the cove.

"That's a 12 hour journey there and back again." His voice was resigned, but also with a hint of despairing, like Anderfel Cheese.

"Don't worry Carver." Hawke replied Cheerfully. "We'll take the Sundermont trip the day after. You'll get some rest before then"

That's still an entire Day's march." Carver Grumbled. "Through the wounded coast no less."

"Indeed." Hawke replied, a predatory smile creeping over her Lips.

"Well, let's get going then. We'll just let Varric go change into Combat gear, then we head to the Harbor, kill the Guys at the Customs, bring their stuff over to our place and then we begin the trek to the Cove."

Wait what?

"Now?" Varric asked incredulously. Did she seriously want them to head to the wounded Coast in the middle of the Night?

"Of course now dwarf. What, you expected us to do it next week?" Carver replied in an annoyed tone.

"I was kinda expecting us to do the Trek in Daylight, you know, when we aren't in danger of tripping and breaking our legs on every hole in the dark. Also bribing the City Guards to look the other way while we exit the City at night, isn't exactly going to help us with you Earning money on this Job."

"Oh don't worry, about that Varric." Hawke replied in a cheerful tone. "I know a pretty good way out of the City through the Undercity, and what breaking our legs go…" she she motioned vaguely to Bethany.

Oh, right, a Mage. The Girl could probably heal broken Bones no problem.

"And what do you care about the lack of light anyway?" Carver asked sourely. "You're a Dwarf, can't you see in the Dark?"

"Fine, fine." he threw up his hands in a half hearted joking manner along with a smile. "I admit defeat, we'll go now, no problem."

He raised himself from the table as he rolled up his map.

"Just let me get My Combat stuff, then we'll go."

"We'll wait outside, Varric. Meet us there when you're ready."

As they parted ways, The Hawke trio to the Entrance of the pub and Varric to his room, He sighed as he thought on what was coming. Ok so he had been on the wounded coast a couple of times in his life.

3 times.

An hour or two away from the city.

The last time 4 Years ago.

Maker this was going to be a long trip.

* * *

As he stepped outside, he saw the three Siblings standing ready, all three immediately seeing him as he stepped out.

"Well, that was qui-Wait you're going in that?" Carvers Voice sounded genuinely Shocked, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Truth be told he had not actually changed into a new outfit, just bianca slung over his shoulder and a belt with a series of Bolt Magazines.

The dangerous and dramatic Kind.

"Yes, Little Hawke, this is what i'm going with. Don't worry, i'll be behind you, so you wont get distracted by my Chest Hair."

"That's not what i- Fine whatever, wear whatever it is you Sodding want, just don't come crying to me if you get an arrow through the chest."

Hawke chuckled then motioned for him to follow as she began the trek to the Harbor, them after her.

"Don't mind him Varric, he's just been paranoid about armor ever since he got a spear through the gut two weeks ago. I think you look great. "

"Really? A spear through his stomach? Shaft and all?"

He looked at Bethany who made a small smile. Apparently broken bones were not the only thing Sunshine could Patch back together.

"Oh yes, Carver tried to jump into combat in his regular outfit. That… worked out about as well as you would expect."

"The one who makes him look like a lumberjack?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

Carver interjected. "I don't look like a bloody woodcarver. It's just… standard Ferelden Clothing."

"Hey now, there's nothing wrong with Being a lumberjack, they are an integral part of Society."

Hawke actually laughed at that.

"He bought it for cheap back at ostagar after he gambled away his shirt after the first victory. In autumn. As the cold winds were beginning to blow."

"He cheated, how many bloody times do i have to say that."

"Still shouldn't have gambled your Clothing Carver."

He was really starting to like the Hawke clan. Also, without even trying he had just learned one more puzzle in the question of who they actually were.

Carver grumbled, but after that, there was a bit of silence as they made the trip down towards the docks. Finally however, Bethany spoke up.

"Master Tethras? I had a question if you don't mind."

"Sure Sunshine, fire away. But feel free to just call me Varric, no need to add any dwarven Noble nonsense unto my name."

"You… You know what i am, right?"

"Sure, you're a beautiful, young Lady who's going to regain her rightful place in Kirkwall High Society soon enough."

He had dug deeply regarding the Hawke family when he had decided on Hawke as his only realistic option as a partner. The children of Leanna Amell and her lover Malcolm Hawke, an apostate of somewhat uncertain origins, they had run away from Kirkwall together almost three decades ago.

Said escape had completely upended the Amell Family's future as the family fortune was left to Leandras younger brother Gamlen. He had then completely wasted the family fortune away on inane business ideas and gambling.

Then, over a year ago Leandra and her previously unknown Children had suddenly showed up back in Kirkwall, escaping the Fifth Blight. They had then worked for a small time smuggler for a year after she helped them get into the city.

All well and Good, but no amount of digging had been able to reveal what exactly the family had been doing back in Ferelden. Until today.

"No, i mean…" She blushed at his praise and bit her lip.

"I'm a mage."

Oh, that was what she was worried about.

"Yeah, i know."

She looked at him incredulously, Carver also looked at him, but whatever his expression Varric couldn't see. Hawke kept looking forward.

"Are you really not afraid of Apostates? Not ever a little?"

He snorted.

"Sunshine, I'm a dwarf in case you missed that detail?"

"Dwarves aren't completely immune to Magic you know."

"No, no, no, i mean, there are over 30 people in this town who would murder me and my family over trade deals. Who has time to Worry about apostates, with the Merchant Guild breathing down your neck?"

"I… I See." Bethany's expression was kinda puzzled, as if she had never considered that anyone might not be worried about apostates. He'd seen that expression before, but generally only on Mages who had just escaped the circle.

They finally reached the final stairway down to the docks. As they stepped down, they passed what remained of the ancient gate to the harbor. Like all the sections of Lowtown, there had once been a strong solid portcullis which could simply be slammed down by the occupants of the fortified gate way they could easily block off sections of the city from each other, while also holding off attacks from any directions.

It had been a great way to deal with slave rebellions. Provided they didn't have Mages to just blow their way through of course. That had been what happened during the last, final slave rebellion, which had seen the City finally throw out the Tevinter slavers, and the city be remade from Emerius, to Kirkwall as he knew it.

The mages had ripped down and obliterated every single one of the Section Gates and the guard houses along with them.

As was usual, the Mages role in the Overthrow of the Magisters was forgotten, their deeds only remembered by those who had read history books which the chantry burned whenever they got their literature Hating hands on.

Several of his books was, were, and had been on that list, depending on where you were. Tantervale had banned all his works for a couple of years.

"So, any plans for how we attack? Or do we just charge in Firing Wildly?" He asked, the Custom yard nearing as they walked. His index finger itched, as it usually did when he knew he would fight shortly.

Hawke replied, but didn't glance over at him. "No that's pretty much it. Usually, with a crossbowman i'dd have started with stealth and killing as many as we could by picking them off with silent bolts before they realised they were under attack. But From what i recall from earlier, Bianca makes way too much sound for that."

Well, it wasn't wrong. He was so used to bianca that he had forgotten how loud she was compared to all other crossbows.

"And since we're in the middle of the city, having Bethany calling forth explosions of fire and lightning isn't exactly the most inconspicuous move. The sounds of that kind of spells carry far. Especially here at the docks."

Bethany shivered visibly at that, as she looked into the distance, the tall structure of the Gallows being clearly visible in the moonlight across the bay.

They continued on, until they finally reached the harbor proper. On their left side was the Qunari compound, which he pointedly ignored. On their right was their target for tonight, the Customs and tolls.

Two armed men with spears in in their hands, stood on either side of the entrance to the place, both of them watching them as they approached. They were well armored, but as Roland had said, they were not wearing plate. Instead they were clothed in armor made up of hundreds of smaller iron plates covering their chest. Along with a couple of well made steel helmets, It made them look professional, but not particularly elite.

Truth be told they looked like the kind of standard guards he would use for his stories. The ones that would talk about their grandchildren, or how they only had a couple of days before retirement.

One looked bored, while the other looked rather on edge. Both turned their head and looked at the party as they stepped down the stairwell to the harbor. Both of them wearily looked at Varric, with Bianca slung over his shoulder.

"Excuse me!" Hawke said loudly getting both of their attention.

"Are you guys from the Flint Company?" she asked in a cheerful tone.

The hostile one glared at her. "We are miss, what about it?"

"Great!" Hawke exclaimed.

Then faster than Varric could catch, the one on the side of the entrance farthest from them had a thrown dagger in his eye. The other man instantly lowered his spear and thrust at Hawke's face while shouting.

"TO A-Grrekll"

His shout however was cut short as Hawke dodged the spearhead, and thrust her dagger through his neck, where no armor covered.

The man stood, wide eyed, in completely shock and pain. Then hawke cleaved with the red blade to the side, deep enough that it had obviously cut through the spine. He dropped with no further comment.

Varric blinked. The whole thing had taken maybe five seconds.

He readied Bianca, as they heard footsteps from the Courtyard of the Customs, presumably the rest of the Flint Company(or at least some of them) had heard the commotion, and was now coming to check.

Well, this wasn't his first Battle, and as the first guy came rushing out, a quick succession of bolts took him in the chest, neck and gut.

It would be a long night.


End file.
